“For your information, I’m Australian born, a naturalized American citizen and an ‘instant captain’ by grace of the NCCC, Under Secretary of Defense Frank Galloway, and the acting Joint Chiefs who are a collection of one Air Force brigadier and some colonels and equivalent in the Hole. There’s more, much more. But that’s the short and skinny. Any questions more important than talking to the Hole or getting a shower?”
“Just that you do intend to hold Gitmo, sir,” Hamilton said. “There’s a treaty that states that if we ever leave the base unattended, it automatically reverts to Cuban ownership.”
“I’m aware of the Treaty,” Smith said, smiling grimly. “That is the least of our concerns, Colonel. There is no Cuba. Nor shall be any time soon. The main concern is that from time to time when there were people who did not care for our culture, they were put to sea in sailboats and told to make their own way. Some coasted along behind the squadron and we make sure they get fuel and food. Others have more or less disappeared. Some of them are known semi-hostiles. I don’t want any of the latter availing themselves of the material generously paid for by the U.S. taxpayers. So we will maintain a significant presence here until the stores are exhausted or we relocate them. At that point, we’ll probably pull out. If anyone wants it, they can have it. This is not truly American soil and if I’m going to put our energies to anything, it is clearing our nation. There continues to be some minor interest in it from a SLOC perspective but that may have to be ignored due to manning constraints. Which will be up to the JCS and the NCCC and not on your plate. Understood, Colonel?”
“Yes, sir,” Hamilton said. “Still trying to adjust to the new conditions.”
“Which is why you get three days off,” Smith said. “One aspect that is more or less mandatory is a short orientation film. I hope you enjoy it.”
“Yes, sir,” Hamilton said. “Sure I will. With due respect, though, sir, I would like to speak with the Hole, sir.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Steve said, smiling.
“So, is there a purpose to this machine gun mount, Corporal?” Hoag said. She was mildly afraid to try to ask the staff sergeant. Or turn her back on him. He was standing at attention, staring into the distance as if zombies would start coming over the ridges at any second. The lance corporal wasn’t much better. He’d been assigned to the radio and was holding the mike in his hand, instantly ready to answer any call.
“If the clearance teams run into trouble they can’t handle, they bring the trouble back here,” Douglas said. “Or to one of the gunboats. Amazing how far an infected will follow a vehicle that’s moving slow enough. Also in case any of them show up to interfere with the landing areas.”
After getting the Hummer going, the lieutenant and her crew had used it to get some of the five-tons running. The five-tons had fifty mounts. They’d been loaded up, taken to the docks, had Brownings mounted in them, then headed out to go clean up any remaining infected.
“That I’m familiar with,” Hoag said. She’d really wanted to go with them. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing on this rooftop and wondered when they’d be relieved. It wasn’t a Marine thought but they’d patrolled this same damned roof for so long.
“Alpha One Four, Alpha One Four, Squadron, over.”
“Squadron, Alpha One Four, Papa, over,” Condrey replied.
“Original Gitmo Team to evac to Boadicea for crew rest. Code is Honor, over.”
“Oh, thank God,” Hoag said.
“Original team to evac to Boadicea, aye,” Condrey replied. “Code is Honor, aye.”
“Squadron out.”
“Sergeant,” Staff Sergeant Decker barked. “Secure your roving patrol. You are relieved of guard duty. Proceed to Pier Three for pickup by fast boat. Copy?”
“Secure roving patrol, aye,” Hoag replied. “Relieved of duty, aye. Proceed to Pier Three for pickup, aye. Permission to speak, Staff Sergeant?”
“Permission granted, Sergeant!”
“The pick-up point is three hundred meters from this location, Staff Sergeant,” Hoag said. “Request cover fire.”
The staff sergeant seemed to freeze. He was barely breathing.
“I think you overclocked him,” Douglas whispered.
“Corporal Douglas!” Decker barked. “Redeploy machine gun to cover evaccing team.”
“Redeploy to cover evac, aye,” Douglas said.
“Sergeant Hoag,” Decker barked. “Move out!”
“Oorah!”
“Oorah!” Faith shouted, laying down fire with the .50 BMG. “I LOVE these things!”
There weren’t really that many infected to engage. But she was, by God, going to lead the convoy doing “initial clearance” and she wasn’t going to let some PFC have all the fun.
“With due respect, ma’am,” Januscheitis radioed. “Short controlled bursts.”
“Staff Sergeant there shall be a vehicle-mounted water-cooled version,” Faith radioed back. “Make it so.”
The “initial clearance” process was simple. Drive around in “medium lift” five-ton trucks looking for infected and kill them. The infected were drawn to the sound of the heavy diesels, not to mention the firing. As they came in sight the machine gunners and Marines in the back of the trucks took them under fire. If anyone ran into anything heavy, they could fall back on the support point or the gunboats.
So far that hadn’t been an issue. The base, while complex, was easily enough laid out that the majority of the infected had come down to the points to be killed. The clearance teams had gotten into the dependent housing and so far there hadn’t been anything they couldn’t handle. The very few infected that had made it all the way to the five-tons were instant road kill and the occasional small piles made by the lieutenant or the other gunners was easy enough to negotiate.
“Yes, ma’am,” Januscheitis replied.
“Seriously, Staff Sergeant, a water-cooled vehicle-mounted version should not be an impossibility and the additional firepower would be a useful addition. I think this is a very good idea. Of course, it is my idea so of course it’s a good idea.”
“To do that properly we’d need to write a staff study, ma’am.”
“Agh!” Faith said. “Not a staff study! Now I’m conflicted, Staff Sergeant. Is it worth a staff study? Yes, I do believe it is. I can combine it with my regular course work as an ISS. Kill two birds with one paper.”
“That is being intelligently lazy, ma’am,” Januscheitis said.
“I take that as a compliment, Staff Sergeant,” Faith replied. “Now find me more infected to kill.”
“Team Two, Clearance Ops. Status.”
Faith switched frequencies without looking.
“Serious lack of resistance, Ops,” Faith replied. “Estimate less than two hundred infected found and eliminated. No serious concentrations. Clearance path ninety percent complete. No survivors found.”
“Green flare observed from direction of Base Housing Area Six. Location southeast of Grenadillo Point. Clear housing area, search for survivors.”
“Survivors would be nice,” Faith said. “Roger, Ops.” She switched freqs again. “Objective: base housing area Six, southeast of Grenadillo Point. Janu, you got any clue where that is?”